


Home

by TheLittleMuse



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A/U, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleMuse/pseuds/TheLittleMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smaug has been defeated, Erebor has been reclaimed and Thorin is now King Under The Mountain. Bilbo has found a home in Erebor, and agrees to stay so long as he can return once more to the Shire to collect a few things he wants to keep and make sure everything else is left to a certain favourite nephew of his.</p>
<p>When he finds that Frodo has been orphaned he is left with the choice of leaving Frodo, staying with Frodo in the Shire or taking the young Frodo back with him on the road back to Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After the battle they collapsed in the ruins of Erebor surrounded by piles of gold. They laughed the slightly hysteric laughter of those who have gone past tired to the state where the brain no longer functions correctly, and who are now, finally, able to rest. And rest in their lost home, no less.

Bilbo looked over to Thorin, “You should make a stirring speech,” he said. “It feels like the sort of moment for a stirring speech, and you’re very good at them.”

Thorin gave Bilbo a slight smile, “We are finally home. We have reclaimed Erebor. That is enough. The moment needs no words.”

For a moment that needed no words they were surprisingly good ones, Bilbo thought as his eyes closed. One by one thirteen dwarves, one hobbit and perhaps a wizard, though no one could ever know what he was really doing, fell asleep as they lay scattered against the stone. When they woke Gandalf was gone, but this surprised no one.

…

“And what of you?” Thorin asked one night when they were feasting, “When do you plan to return to home?” Bilbo hesitated, which Thorin mistook for understandable fear, “I will give you use of my best dwarves to make your journey safe, and, of course, protect the gold we promised our fine burglar.”

“Home is a funny word,” Bilbo replied. And that was all he would say on the matter that evening.

…

Thorin didn’t think much on the matter of Bilbo. Erebor stood as a shadow of it’s former glory which needed rebuilding, especially now the dwarves who had been scattered were returning. They were working constantly, and every dwarf that returned was put to some use, though none regretted returning. Erebor, in their hearts, was home.

Even Bilbo was busy. Though he was far from a stonemason or a blacksmith, he had an incredible talent for organising the dwarves and seeing where, how and when work needed to be done. Thorin at first worried that the new dwarves wouldn’t like this Halfling ordering them, but he seemed to have a gift of likeability and a way of piercing even a dwarves’ pride to get them to see what needed to be done.

It was a gift he had probably developed when organising all those parties in the Shire. For some reason, Thorin didn’t like to think on that too much.

…

“I meant it you know,” Bilbo turned to face Bofur.

“What do you mean?”

“When I said you were one of us. You are. You don’t have to leave.”

Bilbo looked down. They had never mentioned the night he had tried to leave for the rest of the journey, like it was bad luck. Nobody had asked what had happened below the goblins to make him change his mind. But Bofur had finally brought it up and he had to actually make a choice now.

“I’m not a dwarf.”

“No,” Bofur said, pausing, considering. “But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Look at you; you’ve fitted in so well. You’ve a mind different to most of these folk, but that’s good. It’s like on the journey. We needed our burglar and our hobbit.”

Bilbo stood back. He had been putting off going back, every time the thought appeared in his head he would think of all the work that first needed to be done in Erebor. Besides, it was now winter now, any sensible traveller would wait to the spring.

Any sensible hobbit wouldn’t run off into the wilds after thirteen dwarves and a wizard. To take on a dragon.

He wouldn’t belong in the Shire anymore. He couldn’t be sensible Bilbo Baggins anymore. His now so much wider, more terrible and more wonderful than any in the Shire could imagine. Than he had been able to imagine, before.

_But he didn’t belong here either._

“What does Thorin say about this?”

“To tell the truth he hasn’t said anything yet, but don’t worry about that. He don’t say much but it’s clear he likes you.”

Bilbo didn’t answer.

…

It was all about rhythm, Bilbo thought as he remembered when he was panicked in his hobbit-hole as the dwarves threw his plates about. Once you got the hang of the rhythm it was easy. He caught the plate and threw it on, not quite up to bouncing and rolling them like some of the dwarves did, but it was a long time since he’d last broken a plate.

…

There was a feast. This wasn’t unusual; for dwarves feasts were quite common, in fact dwarves seemed to be even bigger eaters than hobbits, something Bilbo had previously thought to be impossible, but this feast was special. Erebor now resembled less a ruined city and was now a place that the dwarves called home. Thorin was now, officially, the King Under The Mountain, Fili, as the elder of the two brothers, his direct heir.

Toasts were given in abandon, to the company who had bravely reclaimed Erebor, to the new dwarves, to the old dwarves, to Gandalf, to the elves for deciphering the map (which caused much muttering), to Thorin (causing them to cheer and thump). Eventually Thorin stood, leaning only slightly on the table, and toasted ‘Our very own little burglar.’

For the first time Bilbo thought that Bofur might be right.

…

Bilbo decided eventually just to tackle the subject head on. It wasn’t something he was particularly used to doing; he had always found that sorting things out without others realising what you were doing made things much easier. With the dwarves he had very quickly found that complaining would do nothing except make them (especially Thorin) irritated and even angry, so he had found his own little ways to make himself as comfortable as possible. He had found it in the Shire as well. With his wealth and position even the normally honest hobbits might try to integrate themselves with him. He could always pick the liars from the honest (thankfully the honest far outweighed the liars) and silently push them away. When the Sackville-Bagginses tried to steal his things he just stole them back before they left Bag End and never said a word. Maybe it was that sort of awareness was why Gandalf thought he would make such a good burglar. 

…

Bilbo sat by Thorin. It wasn’t so unusual, the original company often socialised together, and Bilbo could hardly socialise with anybody else (well, maybe a few would accept him, but that was beside the point) but this time the dwarves had conspired to leave Thorin and him alone.

Sometimes he wondered about the sanity of the dwarves.

“How do you like Erebor, Bilbo?” At least Thorin had spoken first; Bilbo hadn’t felt this nervous since he first became the master of Bag End.

Bilbo paused to truly consider the question, “If you had told me, in my comfy little hobbit-hole, that a city, carved under a mountain, made of stone and jewels, could make as fine a home as mine I would have thought you deluded.”

“But you have changed your opinion?”

“Yes. Because in the end, it’s about what you fight for. You may love the gold for it’s worth and it’s beauty, but you fought and almost died for a home you had lost and needed to reclaim. It’s – I – I’ve always thought that home, the concept of ‘home’ was less about the place and more of a state of mind which is attached to a place, or even a group of people, or a memory or an idea. It’s not something I really thought on, comfy in Bag End, but it’s something I believed.”

“You have managed to organise the dwarves by some unearthly power.”

“I’m good at listening. They all talk very loudly, you see, its really no great skill.”

“Why did you come here to talk to me, Bilbo?” Bilbo almost smiled. Dwarves usually got to the heart of whatever matter that troubled them without any attempt at subtlety. The fact that Thorin had actually talked to him first made him strangely pleased.

“Does a hobbit have a place in Erebor?”

“Do you wish to leave, then?”

“To be honest … I don’t know,” Bilbo looked away, “I have a feeling I will never belong anywhere again.”

Thorin clapped his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, forcing Bilbo to look at him, “You will always have a place in Erebor. You will always be honoured in Erebor as you deserve; as one of those, one of the smallest and most vital parts of us who took back Erebor.”

There was something seductive about returning to the Shire, a life of comfort and good food. Excellent company, but a solitary existence, most likely. A life of comings and goings in it’s own easy, gentle rhythm. A life, despite all that, he would spend dreaming of the world he had seen, of the adventure he had been on.

And if he stayed at Erebor he would no doubt dream of the Shire, of his books and maps, his warm fire and comfy armchair, but in the end it was an easy decision.

“I will stay in Erebor then, as a friend, if you will have me.”

“A wise choice little hobbit, we would truly have been sad if you left. We will have a feast in honour of your decision!”

“Another? Don’t you ever run out of food?”

“Not yet.”

Bilbo hesitated, “There is one thing, Thorin. If I was to live here I couldn’t … leave things hanging in the Shire. I have, no doubt, been declared dead and the Sackville-Bagginses will have got their paws all over Bag End-” he glanced at Thorin, “relatives, as you might have guessed. You don’t need to know the history of the feud between the two families. I would like to … settle my will, as such, take a few choice items. It would be such a shame to leave all my books, although I certainly won’t be able to bring all of them. And I must say goodbye to Frodo.”

“Frodo?”

“My nephew. My favourite nephew, in fact. He almost reminds me of me when I was his age, endlessly exploring things, always wanting an adventure. He’s the one I’m going to leave everything to, for when he comes of age.”

“Well then, you shall have to have a guard for the road, and help to carry all your things home.”

Home. Just one little trip and then he could come home.

It sounded good.


	2. Chapter 2

“I cannot go with you hobbit, but you shall not go unaccompanied. Fili and Kili will go with you.”

“But … aren’t they busy being princes?”

“They, especially Fili as the eldest, have spent the last year studiously learning how to be an heir to such a kingdom as Erebor. They deserve a break.”

A year. He had spent a whole year in Erebor. Bilbo would say he couldn’t believe it, but he could. He had been comfortable here.

“And take this,” said Thorin and held a small, hobbit sized, shirt out to Bilbo. It was almost like chainmail, except much lighter, “This is called mithril, it is harder than tempered steel and as light as cotton, though it is rarely used for armour.” Thorin’s eyes turned into a distant look that Bilbo had grown used to on the journey, “It is near priceless now.”

“Priceless? I can’t take this-”

“I can choose well enough who to give gifts to and I choose to give this to you.” He said, every bit as imperious as he ever was, “I want you protected and you can hardly protect yourself with a sword, waving it around as you do. Wear it under your shirt at all times.”

Bilbo quirked an eyebrow, “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

Thorin half growled in response, “You know my meaning well enough, hobbit.”

“I think you are made fun of far too little, dwarf. It’s not healthy.”

“Well, that’s why I have you.”

Bilbo’s stomach did a funny sort of plunge. For so long on the journey all he had wanted (apart from a warm bed and good food) was for Thorin to see him as something other than a burden, and now it sometimes felt as if they had been friends their whole life. It had been restricted, perhaps, by the question of whether he would stay, but the question had been successfully ignored most of the time.

“I’ll endeavour to be back as soon as possible then,” Bilbo managed to get out.

When, and how had he become important to the King Under The Mountain? And when had Thorin become so important to him?

…

As expected Fili and Kili were ecstatic to be allowed on an adventure again and Bilbo learnt the extent of what seemed to be a conspiracy to get him to stay at Erebor. Bilbo was surprised they’d managed to keep the secret this long and the pressure of keeping it certainly showed when they jumped on him shouting, “You stayed! You stayed!” Which would have all been very heart warming and pleasing if they hadn’t been crushing the air out of him. 

“Just one thing,” he said when they calmed.

“What?”

“You’re going to have to teach me how to ride a pony properly.”

Fili and Kili laughed uproariously, “I remember,” choked Kili, “when we first sat you on Myrtle you looked like you were afraid she would eat you.”

“I made friends with Myrtle in the end,” said Bilbo, a little sad, “but if we manage to keep our ponies all the journey this time, I need to learn how to ride properly or I’ll end up sore all over.”

…

A week later Bilbo ran over to Fili and Kili, “News,” he said, “the elves are visiting. Now, do we stay and try and help make the discussions go well, or do we scarper early?” There was a moment’s pause.

“Do you know, I think you’ve quite mastered pony riding,” said Fili.

“And we have everything packed, don’t we?” added Kili.

“We do,” said Bilbo.

“I think if we hung around any longer we’d just be wasting time. Besides,” said Fili as he helped saddle up the ponies, “it’s not like we’d be any help in the negotiations. Probably make things worse.”

They slipped out as silently as they could. Bilbo knew that Thorin would have suspected they would try to get away early to avoid the negotiations, but Bilbo still regretted that he couldn’t have said a proper goodbye. Still, it was probably for the best. When surrounded by elves Thorin’s moods were notoriously stormy. Any goodbyes when Thorin was in that mood would have been bad.

…

With the death of Azog, the orcs were scattered and leaderless, they fought more with themselves than they did with anybody else, but that did not mean that the threat didn’t exist. There were still many dangers on the journey. It was better now, though, now that they knew where to go.

Bilbo chuckled, he was sure he would cause quite a stir in Hobbiton - not only had he disappeared with no word or warning, and causing a little chaos as he ran out, he now return nearly two years later, with two dwarves and dressed in a most unhobbitish way. He wore a simple cotton shirt over his mithril shirt, a jumper knitted specially for him by Ori and a calfskin jacket. Not to mention his faithful Sting ( _not_ a letter opener, thank you very much) hanging by his side.

…

“What’s it with the feet?”

“What do you mean?”

Kili threw Bilbo his hunk of bread as they settled round the fire, “You always go barefoot, how are your feet not cut to pieces?”

“That’s the way hobbit feet are, I guess. I could just as easily ask you about your boots. Iron boots, no less, aren’t your feet uncomfortable trapped like that?”

“Fair enough Bilbo. You win.”

“I wasn’t aware it was a game.”

Kili leant close to Bilbo, as if imparting a great secret, “That’s the most vital thing to learn, Bilbo; it’s always a game. Some games are more important than others, but they are still games.”

Fili threw a pebble at Kili, “Shut up you lunatic. Don’t listen to him Bilbo.”

“And you’re any better?” said Kili, rising up to face his brother.

“Of course, I’m the wiser and elder, you’re the troublesome youngling. Put the fire out, I’ll take first watch.” Kili grumbled, promising to get Fili back in the morning, but he wasn’t about to argue with a chance to sleep.

…

To their relief the trip was long, but largely uneventful, although the two young dwarves sometimes admitted to being bored. On the road they taught each other songs of hobbits and dwarves. Fili and Kili were surprisingly interested in the history of the hobbits when they learnt that the hobbits hadn’t always been settled in the Shire. Bilbo had already been fascinated with the dwarves’ songs and history, so he was eager to know more. 

Bilbo taught Fili and Kili how to play word games, which, after initial grumbling, they took to with an enthusiasm which characterised everything they did. Fili and Kili in turn taught him a few dwarf games and developed their own game of suddenly throwing random things at Bilbo to see if he could catch them. After the first few (many) embarrassing misses Bilbo learnt the cues to look out for of when they were going to throw and where to put his hand to catch and they were soon all throwing things at each other. The two brothers were just as likely to throw things at each other than at Bilbo, though, of course, Fili and Kili nearly never dropped. 

After Fili lost his pony to Bilbo, they put a rule on what could and couldn’t be placed as wagers on these games.

…

Entering – or re-entering the Shire was an odd feeling. Although he knew without doubt that his true home was now Erebor, he had an almost overwhelming love for the place. It _had_ been his home once. He had lived in the Shire all his life, it had, except for the most recent part, been all his life.

Bilbo felt a powerful tug of nostalgia and yearning and his resolve almost failed. How could he leave the Shire? The land he had loved so well. Yet he knew, as he had that fateful morning, if he stayed in the Shire he would regret it for the rest of his life. He just wasn’t sure how he would cope with seeing all his old friends, seeing _Frodo_ once more, knowing that he would soon leave them again.

Bilbo drove his pony on, a sly smile forming. As a boy it had been his greatest guilty pleasure to shock his respectable elders. It was a pleasure he had unknowingly repressed as an adult, but now it came back in full force.

And what a shock they would get.

…

It came of no surprise to Bilbo that there was a For Sale sign in front of his hobbit hole. Bilbo marched into Bag End, Fili and Kili behind him (and he could have left them somewhere else, but if he was going to do this he was he was going to do everything). He arrived, fully expecting the ensuing argument to go on for weeks (he had told Fili and Kili to be friendly – it wouldn’t do to get the hobbits too shook up) but everything changed when he announced his intention to leave everything to Frodo.

Frodo had been orphaned, he was told.

A boating accident, they said.

_Not surprised, messin’ around in boats, it’s unnatural, that’s what it is._

Bilbo didn’t attack anyone, not even the one so insensitive and just plain cruel, to Frodo and to him, to talk about Frodo’s parents deaths so casually.

Frodo was now living alone in Brandy Hall, they said, and so he marched to Brandy Hall, leaving Fili and Kili behind in Bag End.

So what could he do when he finally saw Frodo, still at the razor’s edge of grief?

What could he do when Frodo flung himself on Bilbo, crying, begging him to stay this time?

What could he do but kneel down, envelop the young hobbit in his arms, stroke his hair, and promise him that he would never, ever leave Frodo alone again.

And he meant it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very good at writing kids since I don't know any and it's been a long time since I was one, so apologies in advance for any crappy kid writing. Also, in canon Frodo was twelve when his parents died and he 'grew up in Barndy Hall alone' which I always thought sounded slightly horrible. And because hobbits age slower to men I've tried to write him as about eight (I'm not sure if I was at all accurate, but I tried).
> 
> And, if anybody was wondering, Frodo was described as a mischievous child who was forever stealing mushrooms from Farmer Maggot - it wasn't only Merry and Pippin.

Bilbo brought Frodo back to Bag End after forcefully throwing every one else out. The two dwarves helped there; all they needed to do was stand and hobbits would leave with mutters of what _odd_ company Bilbo Baggins was keeping.

Thankfully, Bag End had been kept clean and tidy whilst he had been away. Unfortunately, it had been kept tidy by those hobbits who had been planning to sell it, and Bilbo noticed that many choice items were missing. Thankfully the pantry was now full again, since for hobbits an empty pantry was a sign that there was something fundamentally wrong with the world, and his books had remained untouched, as what went on beyond their borders was of little interest to most hobbits.

They were finally able to rest and eat, even if they had to do it without Bilbo’s silverware, something, Bilbo thought ruefully, would have horrified him before. Despite the comfort, he couldn’t rest properly, he was getting increasingly worried about Frodo; it had taken an hour of coaxing to get Frodo to eat even the smallest of portions. Had nobody been paying the boy any attention in Brandy Hall?

…

“I can’t leave him.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“The journey back is dangerous enough even without a little one. Frodo would be far worse at defending himself than even I was.”

“Does that mean you’re … staying?”

“I don’t know.”

…

A few weeks past with no decisions being made, but plans and ideas being thrown everywhere. Fili and Kili wanted to take them both back to Erebor and had made a thousand promises to keep them safe, but Bilbo still worried.

Now, though, he could rest for a moment. Bilbo smiled as he watched Frodo with Fili and Kili. Frodo had just recently begun to resemble the open, curious young hobbit he remembered.

“If you’re a dwarf, do you live in mountains? I’ve never seen a mountain. They’re like really big hills, aren’t they? Are they like big hills?”

“Why yes, Little One,” Fili said, having seemed to have adopted one of the affectionate names hobbits had for their children as a special name for Frodo.

“M’not little,” Fili breathed in, adopting a mock serious tone.

“I judge that you are, Little One.”

“M’not.”

“Well, if you’re not little I can’t pick you up then, can I?”

“M’little! M’little, honest,” Fili smiled and lifted up Frodo, who really did look tiny in the dwarf’s hands.

Bilbo looked away. Fili and Kili seemed to have adopted Frodo as a little brother and Frodo loved them back with the whole of his little hobbit heart. In a way it made his decision much easier, in another, much, much harder. If he stayed, Frodo would be heartbroken by Fili and Kili leaving, not to mention being stuck with an Uncle who had no clue how to raise him and who would always be dreaming of the Lonely Mountain and the kingdom within.

But if he took Frodo with him, which, if he was honest, he longed to do more than anything else, he would be ripping Frodo from the only home he had ever known and taking him on a dangerous road that might easily kill him.

…

“Where did you go, Uncle Bilbo? On your big adventure? Kili said somethin’ about dancing trolls with flower hats, but I think he was lying.” Bilbo laughed and pulled Frodo onto his knee.

“Well, where to begin? This story could begin hundreds of years ago in a grand kingdom under a mountain or it could begin in this very hobbit hole. That’s the thing you must always remember Frodo. Every story has many beginnings and many endings and the best stories have no ending. But you asked for my story.

Well, it could begin with the son of a Baggins and a Took, or it could begin with an interfering wizard with a plan of his own that nobody ever knows. I suppose it starts with both. I was a Baggins of Bag End, Frodo, do you remember? As respectable as they come. Many hobbits wondered why I was so close to the wild little Frodo who had a nasty little habit of stealing Farmer Maggot’s mushrooms and wandering from the path.” As expected Frodo gave a completely unrepentant giggle at the mention of his misdeeds and Bilbo continued, “The truth was that you reminded me of myself in my younger days, the spirit of adventure. The possibility of the stories I loved so well.”

If Bilbo noticed Fili and Kili creep in at that point to listen to Bilbo’s story he gave no sign of it.

“So, to this comfortable hobbit and the meddling wizard. Well, Gandalf decided I was suitable for the position of Burglar in the Company of Thorin to reclaim Erebor.”

Frodo frowned at the introduction of the new names that confused him, but he was too engrossed in the story to interrupt Bilbo.

“And so, quite out of the blue, for me at least, thirteen dwarves and one wizard arrived at my door that night. The first to arrive was Dwalin. He had a bald head covered in tattoos, long hair round the sides of his head and a beard down to here,” he pointed. “He marched in and ate my carefully prepared meal assuming it was for him because he’d been told there would be food.

Next to arrive was Balin, the elder of the group and an old warrior. He had completely white hair and a long beard. The third, well, I think you can guess their names, you know them, after all,” Frodo bounced in Bilbo’s lap, pointing at Fili and Kili, “Exactly. They were two of the youngest and least experienced, but they were two of the heirs of Durin and they were the nephews of Thorin. Ah yes, Thorin. We’ll get to Thorin and the heirs of Durin and the quest that led them later, but first we must introduce the rest of the company.”

And so he continued, even singing, with help from Fili and Kili, the song that the dwarves had sang that night, regretting that his voice could never match the dwarves’. He ended the story for that night when he had denied the quest and gone to sleep, promising Frodo that he would continue tomorrow and sent Frodo off to his comfy bed.

…

“I wanna see all the other dwarves an’ the mountains an’ … an’,” murmured Frodo sleepily.

“I think you might. I think you just might.”

…

“Do you know what you’re going to do yet?” Fili and Kili had tried not to badger him, they knew it wouldn’t make him make his decision any quicker.

“I don’t suppose I ever had a choice, did I?” Bilbo said, not looking at them. Fili and Kili held their breath, did that mean he was staying or coming back? “I can never leave him and I can’t stay here.” Bilbo looked at them, for once his gaze was completely hard, “You must promise me you will protect him, with everything.”

They nodded, not quite knowing how to reassure Bilbo. They knew what it was to be worried about one they loved.

“You promise?”

“We promise.”

“On the blood of Durin?”

Fili and Kili hesitated for a second. An oath such as that was the strongest they could take and would bind them for life. In the end it was an easy decision.

“We swear.”

…

It took them the next few days to pack, Bilbo choosing what to leave and what to take. In the end Bilbo found that now Frodo was out of the equation he cared little for what happened to Bag End, even if it ended up in the hands of the Sackville-Bagginses. His father would have been horrified, his mother would have probably been horrified as well, but he liked to think she would have understood.

He left a note saying that the hobbit hole and all his remaining belongings were to go the Took side of his family, which would cause a merry fuss. Even if it had been an ironclad Last Will and Testament the Sackville-Bagginses would fight it, the Tooks would fight back with full force though. Even if it weren’t for the property and the money it would be a matter of pride. The Tooks won any skirmish they happened to be involved in. It would make a good show and Bilbo was almost sad he would be missing it.

…

“Uncle? Why am I wearing this?”

After persuading Bilbo not to give Frodo his mithril shirt, Kili, who was the better craftsman of the two, had made Frodo some makeshift leather clothes, which, whilst it wouldn’t be as good metal armour, would serve to protect him. They were no doubt uncomfortable for the young hobbit who, like Bilbo, had been used to well fitting soft clothes his whole life.

Bilbo knelt down beside Frodo, “It’s to keep you warm and safe, Frodo,” he said, “and do you know why you need to be warm and safe? Well, it’s because we brave four are going on an adventure.”

“An adventure?” The way Frodo’s face lit up stopped Bilbo worrying in that moment, “You won’t stop telling me your story will you? We haven’t reached the end yet. You only got to the trolls. Fili an’ Kili say there’s loads more.”

“No Frodo, I won’t stop.”

And so, as the sun was still rising, two dwarves and two hobbits rode out of the Shire.


	4. Chapter 4

“The road goes ever on and on, Down from the door where it began,” Frodo, recognising the song, haphazardly joined in with Bilbo, “Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can.”

Fili and Kili remained silent for all of five seconds but as they began to (vaguely) remember the song Bilbo had taught them on the way to The Shire they joined in. In Bilbo’s opinion they weren’t joining in with the same song he had written all that time ago. Then again, neither was Frodo, entirely.

…

“M’cold.”

“I know Frodo, we’re all cold. Come here up to me. Do you know, my boy, it’s one of the first rules I learnt when I was adventuring – normal rules don’t apply. I was quite alarmed when the dwarves huddled together for warmth on a cold night, seemed quite against normal, sensible decency, but it is quite normal for those who travel. I had to learn how to put aside my quibbles and try not to get squashed by those I was huddling against.”

“You’ve always let me cuddle you Uncle Bilbo.”

“Yes, I did, but you were favourite nephew, so that made it acceptable.”

“Adults are weird.”

“Yes, I suppose we rather are.”

…

Bilbo rocked Frodo in his arms.

They had been attacked by the, thankfully, small pack of wolves. Intelligent wolves, with a language all of their own. Frodo had been tucked behind a rock before Bilbo joined the fight. Many of the wolves had been brought down by Kili’s arrows, but it didn’t stop the others. They were larger than normal wolves, fiercer and stronger. When one fell the others simply regrouped and continued their attack.

Then one of the wolves was directly upon Bilbo. His fighting skills had improved, but that was hardly saying anything when the starting point had been so low, and so Frodo, brave Frodo, with his impeccable aim and never ending courage, had thrown a rock at the wolf. And so the wolf had turned its gaze towards Frodo.

Luckily, Frodo had escaped the whole ordeal with a few scratches and one (not too deep) bite mark, but the experience had left Frodo shaken.

“Hush Frodo, hush,” Frodo became a little less hysterical and moved to quiet sobbing.

For a time after the incident Frodo would be held by no one but Bilbo. Frodo’s tendency to scream and cry if he was in anyone but Bilbo’s hands troubled the brothers more than they liked to admit. They had grown fond of their Little One after all, and hated the thought that their presence disturbed him.

Slowly Frodo began to accept that the fact that Fili and Kili fought wolves didn’t mean they were going to attack him. They were on an adventure, and sometimes that meant fighting wolves.

…

“So these two lovely idiots managed to miss the fact that it was trolls taking our ponies and when they did see them, with my help, abandoned me so I could sneak the ponies back by myself. Unsurprisingly, it went a little wrong.”

“Bilbo! Are you saying we acted in a less than honourable fashion?”

“Oh, well done Kili, top marks.”

“We went to get Uncle Thorin to rescue you didn’t we?”

Bilbo was about to point out that he might not have needed rescuing if it hadn’t been for Fili and Kili when Frodo, confused and annoyed by the interruption to the story said, “Uncle? But Bilbo’s Uncle. Thorin’s King, not Uncle.”

“And yet they are both uncles,” said Fili, “Funny how that works.”

Bilbo refused to think on that implication at that moment. His friendship with Thorin was … a friendship. He would say that it was nobody’s business but that tended to only encourage gossip in his experience. His only experience in the business of gossip, admittedly, was with hobbits, but in that particular area he couldn’t imagine they were too different.

And so Bilbo just looked at them evenly and said, “Can I carry on with the story before Frodo explodes? And no interruptions this time,” and without waiting for an answer he continued.

“And so the trolls had taken the ponies, even my Myrtle, and when I was just getting fond of her. I, being small and silent, was employed to sneak past the trolls and to the ponies, where they were tied up. A perfect test for a burglar, I was told. It was indeed easy enough to get to the ponies but the rope that held them was thick and the knots unwieldy. Then I spied a sword hanging by one of the troll’s sides, that he had been using as a small knife, such was the size of the trolls, and, of course to me it was huge. 

And so I saw this sword hanging by the troll’s side and had possibly the most ridiculous ideas I have ever had in my life. I certainly went through one of the most disgusting. I attempted to take the sword from the troll right under his nose, and I almost succeeded as well, but the troll chose that exact moment to stand and wipe his bottom.

Now one thing you must understand is that trolls are stupendously stupid creatures. The one that, by pure chance, had caught me thought he had sneezed me out, if you can imagine such a thing. And that, dear Frodo, is where the disgusting came in. The troll that picked me up had sneezed all over me.”

Fili and Kili listened to Bilbo’s story as they always did. They were always entertained by Bilbo’s version of events and Bilbo was a master storyteller. They had noticed that Bilbo had largely failed to mention, all of their, but largely Thorin’s distrust and disdain for the hobbit. They had all seen how much Thorin’s words had hurt Bilbo, and how much it meant to Bilbo and Thorin when Thorin admitted he’d been wrong. In fact, Bilbo had only really made a mention of it at the beginning of the tale, which earned them quite an impressive glare from a twelve-year-old hobbit. 

…

“To shoot an arrow, Frodo, you hold the bow like this, and no, this bow would be too big for you. Don’t pout. Really, don’t do that. If you’re going to look at me like that I’m not going to show you. Really. Don’t you want to see how to shoot an arrow? Right. Bow like this. Arrow held like this, with these fingers. That’s why I have the special glove to protect my fingers. Draw the bow back, which takes more strength than you might first imagine and is also why I don’t have a beard. Had to sacrifice it to become an archer, hard choice, but worth it. Dwarves value beards very highly, you see, so you can always point out the archers. Not many archers among dwarves, but it is a useful weapon. So, holding the arrow, like so, draw back and check the eye line and let go, keeping your arm drawn back.”

Frodo looked up at Kili, eyes shining in childish adoration, “Do you think I’ll be an archer one day, Kili?”

“Certainly, and a fine one you’ll be too, you have a very good eye. I’d say you’ll wield a bow and a sword, light and swift, able to dance around all your opponents. You certainly can’t use an axe.” 

Frodo giggled, “I’d chop off all your feet.”

...

“Trying to turn my nephew into a fighter already?” Bilbo said quietly as they sat round the fire. Kili was silent, it had never really occurred to him, really, it was just natural to him. A way of bonding, an assumption that he would learn as he grew, like every dwarf did. Except Frodo wasn’t a dwarf.

“I apologise, I-”

“No, it’s alright. It’s not just that he’ll have to fit in, it’s useful, I see that. I was planning on learning how to handle Sting better, and I’ve already had some instruction. It’s just … he’s so young. So small. It almost seems like tempting fate, teaching him to fight. I don’t want him to get hurt. Which I know is stupid because he’s less likely to get hurt if he knows how to defend himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an archer, but the explanation of why Kili doesn't have a beard is one I've read a couple of times.


	5. Chapter 5

Kili thought he would never get used to approaching Erebor. He wasn’t even born when Smaug attacked and so didn’t know it in it’s former days but he had been told tales of it his whole life.

Bilbo clutched Frodo to him as Frodo looked around with wide eyed amazement, Bilbo would never admit it, but he was scared. Thorin had accepted Bilbo into his kingdom, given him honour and prestige after his deeds in regaining and rebuilding Erebor, but what would he think of this untried young hobbit? Thorin didn’t have a great record for trusting those who weren’t dwarves.

…

Thorin watched as his nephews and Bilbo approached, a tiny, well, he assumed it was a hobbit, trailing behind, gazing at Erebor in childish wonder, which, admittedly earned him plus points with Thorin although his automatic reaction to those who did not belong in Erebor was rejection. Bilbo’s gaze was hard though. For some reason Bilbo had brought this hobbit to Erebor and he was determined, it seemed, to keep him there.

Thorin was prepared to allow Bilbo an explanation for the tiny one. Bilbo would not have brought such a young thing over the dangerous roads for no reason at all.

Fili and Kili remained restrained as they greeted their uncle (quite a feat for them, normally they would be all over him) and allowed Bilbo to step forward, “Thorin,” he said, “May I introduce my nephew, Frodo, who is now in my care.”

There was a brief, silent battle. Erebor was the home of Durin’s Folk, Bilbo was granted acceptance and friendship because of his status as a member of the Company. It was one of the simple facts of Middle Earth. Two races may form alliances and may even be friends, but each of these races and descendants of these had their own place of dwelling which was their own and no other’s.

In Bilbo’s eyes there was another fact, just as simple. At some time Frodo had come into Bilbo’s care, and Thorin could understand the need to look after a nephew, but since Frodo was now in Bilbo’s care, if Frodo was not accepted in Erebor, then Bilbo too would leave.

It did not seem then such a hardship to accept Bilbo’s kin. Thorin could see Fili and Kili out of the corner of his eye, silently urging Thorin to accept Frodo. As young and foolish as the two were, Thorin trusted their judge or character and only made the decision to allow Frodo to stay easier.

“We then welcome Frodo, nephew of Bilbo to Erebor.”

Thorin saw three shoulders sag with relief and Frodo’s wide, if slightly confused, smile and gave a small smile of his own.

…

“It’s not going to be easy for Frodo,” Thorin warned Bilbo once they were alone, “he will not be accepted as easily as you.”

“I know, but I couldn’t leave him. I even considered staying in the Shire but, perhaps I was being selfish but I had to return here. Perhaps it won’t so bad, Fili and Kili are on their way to considering Frodo a third brother.”

Thorin nodded, “That will serve him well. I know it may seem crass to talk of them as political objects but it is impossible not in this. Fili and Kili are the Princes of Erebor and their judgement will be held as proof to many.”

“Kili especially has taken to him,” said Bilbo, “and has even started to figure what weapons would suit him best, sword and bow, if you were interested, to suit his swift feet and keen eyes.”

Thorin smiled, “I look forward to seeing how Frodo develops.”

“He will never be a dwarf. No matter how you train him, he’ll be neither as strong of tall as a dwarf.”

…

Frodo had gotten very confused when Fili and Kili had started cooing over his practice swords and practice bow, calling them ‘little toy weapons’. He hadn’t really been certain why he needed measuring up in the first place, but had gone along with it.

Kili was taking most of his lessons, after the previous weapons master had given up since, whilst he was a brilliant teacher of young dwarves, he had no idea what to do with Frodo, who would always be smaller, weaker and would never fight in anyway he knew.

“Alright Frodo,” said Kili, “if an orc who was larger and stronger than you swung their sword at you, what would you do?”

“Duck,” said Frodo.

“Exactly. Duck or dodge. You need to learn to use your size to your advantage, rather think of it as a disadvantage, so you can attack them when they least expect it.”

“No one ever thought my size was a dis – thingy in the Shire,” said Frodo, a little grumpily.

“No. I guess not. Um. Little One, I didn’t mean – Hobbits are one of the smaller races of Middle Earth, I guess. But that’s good. Fighters a sometimes inclined to think smaller equals weaker. That element of surprise will work to your advantage. You’re the perfect size really.”

Fili watched with a smile as Kili tried to hide his relief when Frodo burst into a wide grin. They had both liked Frodo and felt immediately protective when they had first met him, but it had been Kili who had almost unconsciously decided that Frodo would be their unofficial little brother. And so watching Frodo and Kili, his little brothers, together, Fili couldn’t help but smile.

…

“You’re strange.”

Thorin had the feeling that if he took offence to anything Frodo said and responded angrily, Bilbo might just behead him, so instead he just asked Frodo why he was ‘strange’.

“Because when we arrived you were all cold and mean, even though you’re Fili an’ Kili’s uncle and Bilbo’s friend. Now you’re all … not. But sometimes you go all cold again, an’ I don’t like it.”

Thorin supposed he was supposed to be ‘reassuring’ now, and whilst mentally cursing Bilbo for not being here to deal with his hobbitling, he bent down to the hobbitling’s height.

“It is because I am King Under The Mountain. I am not only a representative of my own self and feelings, but also representative of Erebor’s, and those two can conflict. For instance, I have had to form alliances with those, personally, I would … rather not be friends with, for the sake of Erebor.”

Thorin had the uncomfortable feeling he was being weighed up as Frodo looked at him and took in everything he had said. “Kings are weird,” Frodo said eventually. Thorin didn’t answer, “but I like you anyway.”

Thorin was a little thrown by that, he wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to earn Frodo’s friendship. It must be a hobbit thing, to give friendship so easily, still, now it was given it must be returned, “Good,” he said, “that’s good. And I like you too.”

“Uncle Bilbo likes you as well,” Frodo said, who now seemed in the mood for chattering enthusiastically, “he likes you a lot. Fili and Kili keep telling him it’s alright because you like him as well, but sometimes he’s sad. Balin tells him to be patient, but if you like him already why does he have to be patient?” Frodo frowned, “You’re not making him sad are you? Because if you’re making Uncle Bilbo sad I won’t like you anymore.”

“I promise I would never deliberately make Bilbo sad,” said Thorin, feeling slightly as if he’d just taken a hammer to the head.

Thorin ignored the tiny, “Humph,” and subsequent hobbitling marching out of the room. Bilbo liked him? Bilbo _liked him?_ And was talking to the other dwarves? Had they noticed whilst he was being particularly blind, or had Bilbo gone to them? Perhaps it had happened on the journey.

Which meant his nephews were closer to Bilbo than he was.

A small amount of bile rose in his throat which he ignored.

And Balin. He’d expect his nephews to be involved in all sorts of mischief, but Balin was now counseling Bilbo, telling him to be patient, as if he knew Bilbo’s affections to be returned. Thorin knew Balin must believe his words for Balin was never one for false assurances. Balin, his friend and mentor, thought he wanted the hobbit. Balin who had always been able to predict his moods and emotions. Balin who must have been sitting back and watching, learning.

Balin who had an annoying tendency to be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the Bagginsheild starts! Wish me luck, writing romance isn't my strong suit (but please read anyway).


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey, Auntie!” yelled Fili and Kili as they bounded over to Bilbo.

“Why am I ‘Auntie’?” said Bilbo.

“Well, if Frodo’s our brother, which he kind of is, then you’re our Auntie,” said Fili, as if it was obvious, “Besides,” said Kili, “you are basically family now,” he grinned, “whether you like it or not.”

“Fine,” said Bilbo with a reluctant grin, “but don’t let Thorin hear you say that.”

“Thorin wouldn’t mind,” said Kili.

Bilbo shrugged, “Besides, I’m Frodo’s uncle so I’m an uncle not an auntie, you don’t want to go confusing Frodo.”

“Fine then, Uncle,” said Fili.

“Definitely don’t let Thorin hear you say that,” said Bilbo. Both Kili and Fili opened their mouths to say something, and for once shut them again without saying anything. They couldn’t talk to Thorin about this; he’d probably smash their heads together and then interrogate Bilbo, which even they could see would hardly help. And they had already said to Bilbo everything they could say, simply repeating their reassurances wouldn’t do anything. 

…

As far as Bilbo could tell Ori had been simply bouncing for a few weeks now. As the official scribe of the Company he had been tasked with writing up the quest to reclaim Erebor, both in Common and Khuzdul. The biggest problem Ori had faced was accurately recording the events, without his emotions coming into play, which had proved much harder than he thought it would have been when he had taken up the position of scribe.

“I was thinking of writing up my own memoir,” Bilbo told Ori, “An Unexpected Journey: A Hobbit’s Tale. Or, There And Back And There Again. What do you think?”

“I think it would be very fun,” said Ori, “A Hobbit’s view on us all,” he looked suddenly panicked, “though don’t be too hard on us all. Or me, I know I’m not a proper fighting dwarf.”

“I think you’re as proper a dwarf as any. Besides, you could hardly be more useless than me. Anyway, I was going to ask you where the decent paper and ink was. And then I remembered that I never thanked you for that jumper you knitted me. It’s wonderful, it kept me warm all this time and I never thanked you.”

Ori blushed and tugged on his mittens, “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, “I like knitting anyway. It was good to have the practice.”

“Glad to provide it then. But if there’s anything I can do for you, just ask.”

…

“Hobbit,” Thorin said abruptly.

“Yes, Thorin?” Bilbo replied, then, because Thorin’s tone seemed to demand it, he added, “Majesty?” although he couldn’t keep out the slight note of sarcasm in his voice.

“My braids are coming a little loose at the back. Fix them. Or … I would be … pleased if you fixed them for me. Bilbo.”

Now, hobbits have naturally dexterous fingers, so copying the braids that Thorin had ordered him to fix was fairly easy for Bilbo. Especially as they hadn’t actually come loose, so Bilbo had a perfect example to copy from. Still, he carefully undid the braids and re-plaited that exactly as they had been before, and that seemed to please Thorin, who walked away humming some dwarven song.

Bilbo needed to go find Balin.

…

Thorin felt quite pleased with himself. He wasn’t sure precisely what feelings he held for the hobbit, or what the hobbit felt for him. It was entirely possible that he had misinterpreted Frodo, or Frodo, being, after all, a child, had not understood what conversations he was overhearing. They might not have been talking about Bilbo liking Thorin at all.

At any rate, Thorin, whilst being about as emotionally open as a constipated orc, recognised that he needed to give Bilbo some sign of friendship, and the braiding of hair was one of the signs often used by dwarves. Now, he had thought that he had already given what could be interpreted as definite signs. Now he had thought that he had already given Bilbo definite signs of his high position in Erebor, but he could see how the hobbit might still be unsure.

All in all, Thorin thought he had done rather well.

…

Bilbo hurried to find Balin, needing to understand exactly what had just happened. Balin, as it turned out, was in one of the sparring rings with Dwalin. He tried to back out quietly, but considering the force with which he had burst in that wasn’t an option and Dwalin ‘invited’ him to spar.

Bilbo had actually improved somewhat since he had first picked up Sting, but that wasn’t saying a lot. Still, he stood with his sword out (actually holding it correctly and not like it was about to burst into flames) and waited to be thrashed by Dwalin. It didn’t come.

“See laddie, that’s your first mistake,” Dwalin said, and Bilbo couldn’t help but feel just a little indignant. They hadn’t even begun sparring yet, he couldn’t be making mistakes already, “You’re holding your sword like you’re _expecting_ your enemy to beat you.” Bilbo raised an eyebrow. Really, what did Dwalin expect? For him to be utterly confident of victory?

Dwalin made a sound that might have been mistaken for a growl, “I’ll make a fighter of some sort out of you hobbit, if it’s the last thing I do!”

Bilbo turned to Balin, “My condolences on the loss of your brother,” but then turned back to Dwalin, determined. Dwalin respected very few who had not proved themselves in battle, so the fact that Dwalin could see some sort of fighter in Bilbo and could see what use Bilbo had been on the journey, meant a lot.

Eventually, of course, Bilbo tired out and Dwalin stalked away. He had a little more stamina than he used to, but again, that was not saying much among the dwarves. Balin walked over, “Did you want to say anything, Bilbo? You entered with some purpose.”

“Battle axes are evil,” Bilbo muttered.

“Aye, that they can be.”

“Thorin asked me to braid his hair. Or, sort of, told me to, then tried to make that sound like a question. He told me to fix the ones at the back that had come loose, but they hadn’t come loose so I just undid them and then redid them. I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“This is a good sign, no matter if Thorin messed it up a little,” Balin allowed a fond smile, “braiding hair is a mark of friendship between two dwarves.”

Bilbo smiled, then frowned, “You can’t really braid my hair, it’s too short. And no hobbit has ever had a beard.”

“No chance of ever growing your hair longer then?”

“Hobbit lasses have long hair,” Bilbo said, “but the only hobbit lad who ever tried to grow his hair long just ended up with a straggly, tangled mess.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Balin,” said Bilbo, almost embarrassed, “can you teach me about all these dwarven customs and things? Even if it seems obvious to you. Remember, I know nothing about it all.”

“Bilbo, it would be my pleasure.”

…

“Kili?”

“Yes Frodo?”

“What’s wrong with Mister Uncle Thorin?”

(So far the brothers’ attempts at getting Frodo to call Thorin ‘Uncle’ was producing mixed results at best).

“Wrong? What do you think is wrong with Uncle Thorin?” said Kili, panicking for a moment.

“That’s what I was asking you!” said Frodo with a pout.

“Well, erm, _why_ do you think something is wrong with Uncle Thorin?”

“’Cos I told him if he made Uncle Bilbo sad I wouldn’t like him, an’ he looked all strange an’ now he looks at Uncle Bilbo all strange an’ nobody else notice!” Frodo looked suddenly looked worried, “Is it me? I’m the only one who noticed so am I all wrong?”

“Wait,” said Kili, who was now an expert at working out Frodo Logic, “did you tell Uncle Thorin Bilbo liked him?”

Frodo nodded fearfully, “Was that a bad thing?”

“Oh, no,” Kili said as he picked Frodo up, the possibilities playing before his eyes. An innocent confession, a slow realisation from Uncle. It couldn’t have been better if he had planned it. In fact, it was better than any of their plans because his and Fili’s plans tended to go pear shaped. 

“You, my Little One, are a genius,” Kili said as he planted a kiss in Frodo’s hair. Frodo grinned and snuggled to Kili’s chest. He wasn’t quite sure what he had done, but it was good, so he was happy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of angst in this chapter. Frodo finds that not all dwarves are as accepting of new hobbits as the Company. But just remember: where there be angst the fluff is all the fluffier:)

Bilbo walked towards Thorin with a face like thunder. Bilbo rarely got angry, but when he did, he was a force to be reckoned with.

“Frodo has been _hurt_. In fact, he almost died. Apparently a group of dwarves decided to test how good a fighter he was. Fili and Kili are ready to kill the buggers and I’ll be right behind them. I’ve come to tell you because you are King. And you need to do something about this,” Bilbo sighed, “You officially accepted me as one of Erebor, but you never officially accepted Frodo. I know the situations aren’t exactly the same, but I will not allow Frodo to be hurt again.” 

“How badly is Frodo hurt?”

“Two broken ribs. A broken leg. And he’s covered in cuts, Thorin, some frighteningly deep. There was gash on his head and he was nearing unconscious when he was found.”

Thorin bowed his head. Sometimes he truthfully forgot that his life wasn’t like it had been with the Company. There were so many different interests and politics involved. And too many who would see a Hobbit, even their Burglar, in Erebor as an insult to the Dwarves. And so of course, Frodo would be much less welcome than Bilbo.

“Go see to Frodo. I will see to the ones who dared attack him.”

Thorin went to the prison. Fili and Kili, unsurprisingly, were already there. Three Dwarves were huddled in the cell, with the unmistakable look of those who have picked on a small target, only to find out that it is considerably bigger than they suspected.

“Cowards,” Thorin spat as he approached them, “do you have any excuse, or shall I just get the pleasantries over and kill you all?”

“We were just seeing if the Hobbit could fight, Your Majesty,” said one, “we got our answer.”

“And you would attack any young dwarf who was learning to fight in the same way?” Silence. He thought as much. Thorin knew this was partially his fault, Bilbo was right – he should’ve made Frodo’s status clearer. He would rectify that.

“Well,” said Thorin to the prisoners, “since you are so … keen to test the mettle of all our fighters, it is only fair that the same is done to you, and you shall be tested by no greater personage than The Heirs of Durin, Fili and Kili themselves.”

“How far shall we test them, Uncle?” said Fili with faux lightness.

“As far as you deem necessary.” 

…

Thorin then went to fetch Balin. He had to make the announcement and declaration quickly, so that everyone would know that the Hobbits were Hobbits of Erebor, and should be treated as such. And they would also know what happened to those that harmed those that were as the King’s Kin.

…

It was much later in the day when Thorin finally managed to visit Frodo and Bilbo in the healing rooms. Frodo was unconscious, but a quick word with Oin reassured him that it was good the boy was sleeping.

Bilbo was sitting in a chair beside the bed, every part of him tense. Thorin knew better than to try and tell him he didn’t have to stay vigilant by Frodo’s bedside and so he pulled up a chair beside him.

“I just … don’t like seeing him like this,” said Bilbo eventually.

“I understand. Whenever Fili or Kili got hurt training I was at a loss. The thought of sending them into danger almost paralysed me.”

“Then … if you don’t me asking … why did you?”

Thorin chuckled, “It’s a fair question, especially for you, who was not brought up in our ways. I couldn’t coddle them forever and of course they wouldn’t be left behind. But most importantly, they felt the call of Erebor as much as I did. They are the Heirs, and they too needed to reclaim Erebor.”

Bilbo turned his gaze back to Frodo, “I guess I can understand that.”

They talked then, quietly. They talked about their families and their histories and lives before the Journey. They talked about the sudden pain of sometimes missing ones long gone and how they had both lost their parents too early. Thorin confessed his fears about ruling Erebor, even though he knew in his blood that he had been born to do it. Bilbo talked about the difficulty of finding home in a nest of dwarves, and how sometimes he felt completely content and entirely a stranger at the same time.

Eventually Bilbo fell asleep on Thorin’s shoulder and Thorin gently carried him to the bed Oin had set up by Frodo, since Oin had known that Bilbo wouldn’t break his vigil at Frodo’s side, “Sleep well, my Hobbit,” Thorin murmured before leaving.

…

Thorin returned to the prison where he found the prisoners battered, bloody and barely conscious. Thorin nodded to the Chief Guard and said, “When they wake tell them this: that they are not dead is a mercy, for there is yet a chance they may learn their lesson. They are to stay locked up until Frodo fully recovers, and to be fed only the barest of rations until that time. All will know of their crime and should anything like it happen again, the sentence shall be much harsher.”

Thorin then left and went to Fili and Kili’s quarters and told them his judgement.

“They should be dead,” grumbled Kili.

“And should it happen again the punishment will be death.”

“Uncle, we want to visit Frodo-” Thorin raised a hand.

“Both Frodo and Bilbo are now asleep, and Frodo will sleep for as long as he needs to. You may visit Frodo tomorrow, if he is up to it.” 

…

It was months before Frodo was back to full health and was more determined than ever to improve his fighting skills. Dwalin, who had trained many a Dwarfling, including Fili and Kili, was now included in his training. After a few sessions with Frodo he had proudly announced that Frodo would one day become a lethal fighter.

Bilbo had laughed from the sidelines. Fighting was not a skill he had ever imagined being proud of, but he was more proud of Frodo than he could ever say.

Everything came to head when Frodo ran up to Thorin, hugged him, and said, “Thank you for the training and letting me be properly one of the Dwarves, Mister Uncle Thorin, Sir!”

One glance at his nephews told him they were responsible for getting Frodo to call him ‘Uncle’, but he found himself touched none the less. He had become fond of Frodo, and officially calling him a Hobbit of Erebor was not just a political move and so Thorin bent down, hugged Frodo and said, “It was my pleasure.”

He turned to see Bilbo looking at Frodo fondly. Looking at them _both_ fondly and Thorin found himself smiling in response.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so a shorter chapter than usual, sorry about that, but there is going to be a time jump after this so it kinda had to stop where it did.  
> This chapter turned out slightly angstier than I had planned, but it's still fairly fluffy. Rejoice! There is finally Bagginshield.

The incident with Frodo revealed something to Thorin, he would do anything for the Hobbits in his care. Politically, announcing that even Bilbo was as The King’s Kin was controversial and risky, but as Bilbo had been part of the Company he had been accepted. Frodo on the other hand …

Thorin knew there would be objections to Frodo, but he hadn’t hesitated. All he had thought of was Frodo lying injured in bed and Bilbo’s face when he had told Thorin. Angry and determined and passionately protective of his charge.

Thorin choked on the cold air because suddenly he _realised_. He had, ever since Frodo had accidently suggested Bilbo’s feelings, questioned his own, but had since concluded that though he felt a deep and lasting friendship for Bilbo, he did not feel love. And after that he had let out a small sigh of relief for dwarves were not in the habit of pondering their feelings, and Thorin was even less so. Dwarves do not tend to do love by increments or are in the habit of it growing over time. When Dwarves fall in love they do it suddenly, blindingly and forever.

And Thorin Oakenshield had just fallen for Bilbo Baggins. 

…

“Bilbo.”

Bilbo tried not to stare at Thorin. Never in all their talks, which had become lengthy and often, had Thorin sounded so nervous. Nor had anybody ever managed to imbue his name with such meaning.

“It was suggested, some time back, that you may have … feelings for me, and I have just recently realised,” Thorin seemed to gain confidence, “that I truly love you. It came as a blinding flash as such things do, and I would be honoured if you would have me. If I have mistaken your feelings then you have my word that I will not bother you again, except in the honest name of friendship.”

Bilbo Baggins was well known for having a talent with words. He was known as a great storyteller, for being able to weave a world out words in the air. This was not one of those times.

Still. He thought that pulling Thorin down and kissing him worked just as well. He was proved right when Thorin gathered him up in his arms (literally picking Bilbo off the floor) and kissed him back. Bilbo eventually broke off, needing air, and then started giggling helplessly.

“What is it, Bilbo?”

“It’s just … it’s just … you have a beard,” Thorin gave him a look of complete incomprehension, “Hobbits don’t have beards, you see? It tickles.” It wasn’t just that, of course: Bilbo was a Hobbit and Thorin was a Dwarf, Thorin was a king and there was politics and Dwarves that didn’t see any worth in a Hobbit, no matter how his story was told.

“It’s going to be difficult,” Bilbo murmured, “I won’t be accepted so easily.”

“No. It might be best-” Thorin broke off, unable to finish. The thought of having to hide, of asking Bilbo to hide, was too much. He was king, he shouldn’t have to hide.

“It might be best if nobody knew just yet,” Bilbo finished, looking at the floor.

“Not yet. Someday,” Thorin promised.

“I can still tell everybody else though, right?”

Thorin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Better you than me,” and nodded.

“Fili and Kili are going to be impossible,” Bilbo muttered and Thorin laughed, and then kissed Bilbo again, for the moment not worrying what the rest of Erebor thought.

They stayed like that for a long time, too wrapped up in each other to think of anything else.

…

Fili and Kili were impossibly gleeful when they were told, jumping in the air (and on their beds) and hugging Bilbo so tightly that the air was squeezed out of his chest. Bilbo had laughed with them, delighted that this mad wish of his had come true. But it turned solemn when they heard of the necessity of secrecy and promised Bilbo that the whole of Erebor would hear a thousand times over the worth of their favourite Burglar.

Then they laughed a bit more and started a game of, ‘Who can make the Burglar blush the most’. Fili won. Kili sulked.

…

Balin clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Good for you, laddie,” quietly, before giving a small smile and saying, “told you it could happen, didn’t I?” and Bilbo smiled back because the older Dwarf had always been there with advice or encouragement.

…

The impromptu feast that night was entirely unsurprising and very enjoyable, even if he had to endure the jokes when Thorin dragged him off early to 'talk to him alone'. 

...

It was telling Frodo that almost broke Bilbo’s heart, because he couldn’t hide the reasons or the facts from Frodo anymore. Frodo had just sat on the edge of his bed as Bilbo told him, a thousand emotions playing through his eyes and told Bilbo he would be there if he needed him in a voice that was not quite childish anymore.

After all, Frodo had already almost died because he was a Hobbit. It was something that Bilbo had hoped Frodo would never understand, but, they had all promised, things would get better and once Erebor was truly stable, Thorin would take Bilbo as his Consort.

…

And it was all right anyway, thought Bilbo as he snuggled into Thorin’s chest that night, because Thorin, The Company and Frodo were the only ones who truly mattered anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of a time jump from the last chapter. Frodo is still a child (mostly), but is entering, what for humans would be, earlyish teens. (I think, I'm not too good at ages)

The first that was heard was Frodo running into Kili’s room, launching himself onto the bed and begging Kili to wake up. Kili woke instantly, hand grasping for his sword and found himself with an armful of hysterical hobbit.

“You’re alive! Now we got to check Fili and Thorin,” said Frodo, attempting to drag him out of bed.

“Wait … what? Little One, calm down. Why do you think they’re dead?”

“I had a dream.”

Kili sighed, trying not to let his frustration show and gathered Frodo up into his arms, “Little One, it was a bad dream. Look, you thought I was dead and I’m not. Everything’s OK. Do you want me to take you back to bed?”

Frodo threw his hands up in his unmistakeable _These grown ups are being so stupid_ gesture, “I’m not a child. It wasn’t like a normal dream. It was real. There was the battle. Five Armies. You told me about it, right? But I saw it. Bilbo was – Uncle Bilbo was banished, Thorin said … but Bilbo stayed anyway,” Frodo burrowed into Kili, “And then – and then there were the bodies and blood and they called Bilbo over because – because Thorin wanted to say sorry and – and he was _dying_ and you were _dead_. And – and –” but Frodo shivered and refused to say anymore.

Kili had to sit back. They had told Frodo the details of Bilbo’s ‘banishment’ for obvious reasons, but Frodo had apparently dreamed of it. Kili knew that what Frodo had dreamed wasn’t real, but he also knew that sometimes dreams had meanings and he knew that what Frodo had dreamed could have happened if the fight had gone differently.

Kili held Frodo gently, “Frodo, I believe you, but we both know the dream wasn’t real. I’m here. We’re all here. But I think there must be something else in it, but it’s something that can wait ‘till morning.”

Frodo sniffed. He hadn’t felt quite like this since his parent’s death. It was one of the ways he knew the dream was real. Kili understood and shifted over in his bed, allowing Frodo to burrow in.

…

As Kili promised, they talked to Thorin and Bilbo in the morning. Frodo kept glancing at Kili, Fili and Thorin, checking that they were still there and alive. Kili spoke for him, unable to forget the way Frodo had looked like a small, scared child in the night.

“Have you ever had a dream like this before? Real?” asked Bilbo gently.

“I used to dream of cold and gasping for air but none was there,” replied Frodo softly, clenching his fist to stop his trembling.

“You used to dream of drowning.” Frodo nodded, “I’m glad you didn’t know what it was, at the time,” said Bilbo as he pulled Frodo into a hug.

…

Bilbo’s dreams were the subject of much talk over the next few days, until eventually Bilbo persuaded (bullied) Thorin into asking Lord Elrond for help. Lord Elrond, after all, was one of the greatest seers in Middle Earth and whilst Frodo’s dreams weren’t exactly visions of the future, they did have some otherworldly quality to them.

And so, a few weeks later Bilbo, Frodo and Dwalin, who had been given strict orders by Thorin not to let the elves do anything unnatural to Frodo, set off to Rivendell.

Bilbo knew by now that saying anything complementary about elves didn’t tend to go down well. Frodo knew this well, having grown up with Dwarves, but he had never been confronted with Rivendell before.

The problem was that Rivendell was simply built to be impressive. All dwellings of Men, Elves, Dwarves and even Hobbits were built to be impressive to some extent. The problem, the Dwarves would grumble, was that Rivendell wasn’t built to be anything other that impressive. It was impractical, indefensible and just plain _elvish_. How was having waterfalls running through the city be in any way helpful? Or productive? They certainly weren't powering anything or doing anything useful.

Frodo declared the Last Homely House ‘pretty’, Dwalin grumbled and Bilbo hid a smile. Elrond showed little emotion either way, which was one thing Bilbo could agree with the Dwarves about Elves. Hobbits and Dwarves were naturally very expressive people, and so the Elves constant picturesque, porcelain beauty was just a little disconcerting.

…

Elrond took a short while with Frodo, but declared that the dreams represented, “Possibilities of past, present of future events. It would be wise to take heed of them, but since Frodo is not a true seer and cannot see the likelihood or possible truth of the dreams, be cautious. When interpreted correctly, they serve as the wisest of judgements.”

“Useful,” snorted Dwalin. And that was that. Thankfully they got fed again before they went on their way, and good food, this time. Bilbo and Dwalin were both a little smug to see that even elves weren’t immune to Frodo’s eyes when Frodo decided to project Pain, Horror, Anguish and the killer, the little spark of Tentative Hope.

…

Still, as seemingly useless as Elrond’s words were (“Typical Elf,” Thorin had muttered) they gave Frodo’s dreams a weight that they perhaps hadn’t had before. The Dwarves, after all, weren’t used to paying attention to meaningful dreams. The only reason they had believed the portents that Oin had read was the prospect of reclaiming Erebor.

But it made a difference because now Bilbo couldn’t get the image of Thorin rejecting him out of his mind. It had happened and it had been fixed and Thorin had apologised and said he loved Bilbo a thousand times over. It was in the past.

But Bilbo still found that he couldn’t ignore the dream.

Because Thorin loving Bilbo was his shameful secret. Because no one was to know. And so, one night, Bilbo quietly suggested to Thorin that maybe now was the time to tell. Bilbo was respected and no dwarf question Thorin as king.

And it worked. At first, the Dwarves were confused – a Hobbit and a Dwarf? They had accepted Bilbo but Dwarves were naturally secretive and insular, but they came round soon enough. One of the Line of Durin was still heir and a Durin sat on the throne, so all was right. Even if the King Under The Mountain was odd enough to marry a Hobbit. 

And so that was how Bilbo was faced with a whole new problem – how to prepare for a Dwarfish wedding. There was one thing Bilbo made absolutely sure of – lots of food, and the Dwarves weren’t exactly complaining on that front.

It didn’t prepare Bilbo for Frodo running into his room and asking who Merry and Pippin were, and whether they could come to the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Merry and Pippin next chapter. And yes, I'm sorry Sam fans, but he isn't going to appear. He might want to see the elves, but I don't see him travelling to Erebor, especially as a kid. He's too attached to the Shire. It also doesn't fit in with my ideas for what happens in LOTR for this story.


End file.
